After
by Periacta
Summary: Magenta after Rocky. Nine chapters
1. Take to the Sky

AN: didn't feel like working on my Urth story, I'm not having much luck with that one, so I'm starting this.  
  
I lay back in the tub, relaxing after washing the immense amount of junk out of my hair. The only reason I had it there in the first place was for effect. Riff and I had dressed up just to frighten the Urth people hoping they'd leave without much trouble.  
  
I poured in some scented bath oil, rubbing some of it into my skin. The air on Urth had been so dry compared to Transsexual that I found myself in constant need of lotions. We were going home. For the first time since I was twelve, I was free. Free from Frank, free from my status as a bound servant (AN: Don't know if this is the right term, I'm in a Friday night blah mode now, so if it isn't, deal).  
  
Riff had to be just as happy as I was. In the time we'd been on Urth, Riff had become a monster, frightening even me, who he had always treated the kindest (that is an odd and possibly incorrect sentence). Now that we were going back to Transsexual, Everything would be different. I would have a life of my own, a life to do with as I please. I smiled to myself as I stepped out of the tub (OOOOHH!! Naked Magenta!) and dried myself off.  
  
What would I do now? I would have to get a job, we had to make a living somehow. What would I do? I knew I was intelligent, even I didn't need my brother to tell me that, but I had had no training. My life had ended before I even finished primary school, and the only tutelage I had was from what I had heard as Frank was being taught.  
  
Once I buttoned up my dress, I did something I had never done before. I dropped the towel onto the floor, letting it crumple down next to my silly looking "space outfit." Never before had I had the luxury of leaving something like that, not needing to be tidy. I wasn't naturally a tidy person, and Riff had said that anyone could tell I wasn't, just by looking at my hair. Picking up after myself, and later, after Frank, bothered me to no end. So, finally after years of waiting I could be a slob. I turned the knob to leave the bathroom. It wouldn't budge. I tried again. Someone had locked it from the outside. I heard a footstep behind me, in the bathroom. 


	2. Lies

AN: Just so you know, I'm totally stumbling in the dark here; I have no idea as to what's going on. My fingers simply type as my brain has another night on the town (and comes back with a hangover, damn brain, why doesn't the bartender card it? Theoretically, it's just as underage as I am. . .). Oh, and, we need a disclaimer.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I own everything, now give me money! *Sigh* sadly I don't, but Richard O'Brien does. You can still give me money though.  
  
Now it's time for the story. Please say goodbye to Brain. "Goodbye Brain." Thump, thump, thump-thump. Brain gone now.  
  
STORY: My breath stopped in my chest, as my hand moved from the doorknob limply to my side. I turned around, terrified at what I would find. It was Riff. He stepped toward me, pulling a brass candlestick out of his pocket.  
  
"Magenta, I'll explain later," he lifted the candlestick over his head, before bringing it down.  
  
Without lifting my head (for it was painful to do so) I slid my eyes around the bathroom, looking at the scene surrounding me. Riff-Raff was still standing there, but he wasn't looking at me, nor did he seem to be aware of my consciousness. Transylvanian soldiers inspected every aspect of the room, from the corners of the walls to my own underwear, studying it inside and out. Though it felt as if all the blood had rushed from my head, I found enough to bring a crimson color to my cheeks. I regretted now not putting away my dirty clothes.  
  
"Explain this again, Riff Raff," one of the soldiers commanded.  
  
"I was defending her. Frank had com in, trying to grab her. She shoved him off, but he wouldn't leave. She called for me, but before I came, she was down, still alive, but unconscious. I thought he's killed her, so I did what any big brother would." Things were starting to make sense.  
  
"Hmmm. . .We'll let the Queen decide that. Was anyone else on the ship? Any other servants?" He was obviously suspicious.  
  
"No, sir, no one else. It was the two of us, and Frank. That's all." Was there a reason he wasn't mentioning Rocky and Columbia? I suppose those two complicated things . . . as always.  
  
I sat up, and as I did so, my brain slammed against the side of my head. The soldier looked at me, and Riff turned around, following his gaze.  
  
"What happened, miss?" The soldier asked, in a grave tone.  
  
Riff looked at me, his eyes pleading.  
  
"Just what my brother said, sir. Frank came in, as I was drying off from a bath, and tried to grab me. I tried forcing him away, but he obviously is stronger than me, so that didn't last long. I yelled to my brother, and he put his hand over my mouth. Then, just as I heard my brother's footsteps. . . He hit me. I don't know what with, but it was certainly heavy." I glanced at Riff, hoping to god I had said the right thing.  
  
The soldier looked at the two of us, then stalked out of the room. 


	3. Punished

AN: I just watched the Animated Christmas Carol with Tim Curry as Scrooge. That was-interesting. I never really liked the Christmas Carol anyway; I think people should be allowed to be a bitchy as they want whenever they want. I'm gonna pull another all-nighter tonight, so look forward to some more disturbingly odd chapters. Meow.  
  
I plopped onto the bed in my guest room in the palace. It was my first night back on Transylvania, and I was spending it at a place where five years of my life had been spent. Yet, instead of a filthy cot in the servants' quarters, I had been given a room in the main part of the palace. I knew Riff would not be visiting me tonight; there were too many guards around. The queen was still suspicious, and sneaking into each others' rooms would only add to the questions and rumors circulating.  
  
A knock came on the door. Before I could respond, a guard came in. "We need to see the Queen now, miss." Taking my arm, he led me out of the room. As I walked down the hall, Riff emerged from his room with a guard on his arm. We glanced at each other, but didn't speak; we both new whatever the queen had to say could determine our lives.  
  
As we entered the throne room, the guards pushed us down to the floor, forcing us to kneel. The looked down at us, her face expressionless. She whispered something to the guard by her throne, who left the room. She spoke. "I consider myself a practical woman, so I understand you can't judge on circumstantial evidence. I can't charge you with murder, we have nothing to prove it was done out of cold blood, though we all have our suspicions. I can however, put the responsibility of the ending of my son's life solely on you two. And as any mother who has lost a child would know, and understand, Magenta," She looked at me, pausing before continuing. I squinted at her, how had she known? "The punishment for those responsible tends to be harsh." She stood up, walking toward us, and circling. We kept out heads bowed. "You two have caused an awful thing to occur, and you will be punished justly. After tonight, you will not be allowed into the city or anywhere near again. You shall be put under a sort of house arrest. Guards will patrol the premises, and you needn't leave. Ever."  
  
A guard took my arm and pulled me to my feet what another one yanked my brother up. Escorting us out of the room, they again marched us down the hall. As we were walking, Riff eyed me. I could see the relief in his eyes. We were home, and relatively safe. It seemed we were rather good actors. 


	4. Home

AN: I'm eating gingerbread cookies, I'm eating gingerbread cookies. And they aren't all that great, HEY! That was my song.  
  
Home. This was to be our home for the next...God knows how long. It was small, smaller even than the apartment where we had lived with mother, but, then, it would be much easier to clean than the castle had been. Damn it! I had to stop thinking like that. I was no longer a domestic, and I would never let anyone call me that again, much less would I act like one.  
  
The guards' cabin was about a hundred yards away, and surrounded by a thick hedge, making it hardly visible. I suppose the queen's plan was to make us forget they were there, hoping we would reveal some key piece of information about the murder of her son.  
  
We were to be watched like animals in a zoo. By killing Frank, we had hoped to gain freedom, and by killing Frank, we had lost it. Irony seemed to be thick here, and I could see it would slap me in the face every time I looked out and saw the hedge, hiding so poorly the guard's cabin.  
  
Would Riff think of another dark plan? How long would these guards last? Another thought entered my mind. Within the past year, my brother had murdered three people who had gotten in the way of him. Columbia and Rocky had done nothing, other than being associated with Frank, they were relatively innocent. What would it take for Riff to turn against me? I couldn't imagine it would take much, judging by the others. Yes, he loved me, and he would protect me against anything, but did that include protecting me against myself?  
  
I was being silly. Riff would never hurt me, I was his sister. He loved me. I looked at him as he surveyed the building where we would live, as I had been doing, before I got distracted. Walking over to him, I circled him in my arms, standing on my toes and resting my chin on his shoulder. He grabbed my hands, turning his head to my cheek as though to kiss me. Instead, he whispered one phrase: "Don't speak of it."  
  
"Of course not,' I breathed back, barely audibly. Of course not. 


	5. No idea what to call this

AN: Writing, writing about something. Oh, why must I make such foolish promises! Dost thou not see what despair you have caused me? What lengths thou hast brought me to? Thy brazen hand has once again grasped my fair throat, stifling me as you force me to create. Go, go now, or forever listen to my silence. Where the f*ck did THAT come from?  
  
We had been here for three months now. I was beyond bored. I was so weary of this secluded life, Riff had to keep all sharp objects away from me for fear I would use them on my wrists. He begged, bribed, blackmailed, and finally dragged out of bed each morning. I spent my days outside, staring at the birds that flew by, internally scoffing at their cheerfulness. There was almost no wildlife around, and I longed for days when heavy clouds would finally blank out the sun. I hated the sun.  
  
Riff would come out late in the afternoon, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me back inside the house. I have no idea what Riff would do in the house all the hours I sat outside, sulking, perhaps he was planning something. Once I was inside, he would bath me, carefully washing and combing my hair, softly scrubbing by arms, legs, breasts, back and stomach, and I sat there, listless. I rarely ever spoke during these three months, especially during the daylight hours.  
  
I would finally awaken to the world in the evening, as Riff and I lay in the bed. I loved Riff, and I was so thankful he was here with me. During these late hours, I would once again live, and be that which I once was (what a kick-ass sentence!!!!). But night would come, and with it, sleep, and, all too soon, the morning (five commas! Count 'em!).  
  
And so I sat languidly one afternoon when they came. There were two of them, dressed in police uniforms, different from the guards whom we had grown to ignore. The entered the guards cabin, and stayed for many minutes. Though my interest had been peaked, I nevertheless stayed sitting, not bothering to get my brother.  
  
After a while, they emerged, with our guards. They were walking toward me. I didn't move; simply stared back. Was this it? Had all of Riff's careful guarding against my suicidal tendencies been for naught (kick-ass word!)? My heart quickened, and a smile formed on my lips. I wouldn't have to stand boredom anymore! One of the police turned to speak to a guard, and as he did so, reached for his holster, bringing out his weapon. The guard nodded. He aimed it at me, and then the burning came over me... 


	6. Transport

Waking up, my first thought was "Damn, why do these things always happen to me?" then, as I waited to regain my vision, nothing happened. It stayed as black as ever. I tried to reach up and rub my eyes, but this was impossible, as my wrists were tied firmly to my body, and my legs were tied together. I had nothing to feel around with, but I guessed from the rumbling that we were moving. Was I in a box? My mouth was filled with some sort of material, which had absorbed all of the moisture from it, leaving my throat dry and painful.  
  
Hours passed and nothing happened, other than a few short stops, nothing occurred. Finally, light came in, and the top of whatever I was in lifted, revealing a four hands, which reached in, and, while one covered my eyes, the other three lifted me out and dropped me onto the ground below. I heard a body land beside me, I assumed it was Riff. Opening my eyes, the sunlight pierced through my brain, slicing it in two. I shut my eyes again.  
  
I could feel the ropes around my legs loosening, and I'm bored with this for now, going back to Earthbound, see you there. 


	7. Return

AN: And, the word of the day is epiphany. Damn, that's a good word. And...due to popular request, the new, the improved Chock Full o' Incest © 2001!  
  
The cell was warm, as it was situated in the bowels of the palace, right over the furnace. The air in the dungeons hadn't circulated out of here for centuries, making it stale, thick, and difficult to breath. Riff and I had been put together, an irony considering our charge. Somehow, the guards had seen us, had been watching us more carefully than we would have imagined. They had seen us together, peeked in on us at night, as we lay awake, together, in the dark. Authorities had been notified, and we were taken away, taken here.  
  
I had wondered at first what the queens intent was for imprisoning us, but Riff had explained. It wasn't the incest she cared about, she just needed to see us put away. She wanted to see us suffer. She knew we had murdered her son, and she would make us pay. Riff said this, making me shudder. So far they had simply kept us locked away, but what could they do to us? What would they do?  
  
Riff enjoyed taking advantage of our captivity, but it made me nervous. Though I knew the queen hadn't put us in here for our incestuous acts, incest in itself was still a crime, and it could only add to our punishments. Riff, however, was never one to heed my warnings, and after much coaxing, I would surrender. I would grow even warmer then the room had already made me, even as Riff disrobed me, and I would repetitively shudder as my brother's relatively cool hands brushed against my skin.  
  
I feared Riff-Raff. Though I had never admitted this to myself before, it had been true for years, perhaps even before we arrived on Urth. Maybe my whole life I had been aware of this, conscious of what bestiality he was capable of, which of the more bitter emotions he portrayed. Did I love him, or fear him? It had to be one or the other.  
  
Days passed, and no one came for us. We saw no one other than each other and the occasional guard who would bring food. Riff grew sulky, and irritable. He began to look for blame. Of course, it was placed on me. And along with the blame came cruelty. He would press me against the wall, banging my head against the tone for hours, repeating, over and over, "why do you torture me so, love?" I closed my eyes and waited. 


	8. Freedom?

AN: I hate to get strict with you guys but you really need to review more. Not just my story, but others. If you read a story it is common courtesy to review. Please, people, if not for my sake, then for my sanity!  
  
Drip…drip…drip…. Water plopped onto the ground in some dark corner of the cell. I stared at the ceiling, focusing and un-focusing my eyes—making the walls blur together and meet in a dome over my head. The ceiling, obscured by shadows and some sort of moss, seemed to push down, lower and lower, every hour, every night we spent here. Two weeks we'd been here, with nothing to do but-well-fuck around, as Frank would have so aptly put it. There was nothing to talk about that we hadn't discussed endlessly, picking the last, tough bits of conversation of the bone of time until it was clean, white, and endless.  
  
We weren't even cautious anymore. The guards all knew; chatted and joked amongst themselves as Riff and I found productive (no pun intended…tee hee, I'm listening to "Lullaby"!) ways to while away the time. Other than that, nothing happened and nothing happened, and nothing happened.  
  
This was all before the war started. When a breeze blew over the entire planet, bringing the stench of gunpowder and burnt flesh with it, things changed. The queen needed all able bodied men, and soon, the city was half empty, inhabited only by a crowd of worried wives and the pathetic, weak old people. Riff, though certainly not able bodied, was—dispensable. And so, he was torn from me, ripped from my arms as the staccato clacking of the guards' boots had ripped me from my dreams.  
  
So I became no different from the worried wives on the streets of the city. My nights were spent awake, staring at the blank walls and envisioning the horrible death of my brother. My days were spent tirelessly writing page after page of letters, never sent but kept in the lining of my mattress. I imagined the other women writing, their movements in unison with mine, their pen strokes identical to the ones on my paper. We were one entity, except that I was still down here…unable to keep vigil by the front window, waiting for a love to return, unable to send off my letters, let him know that I'm okay, that I'm waiting.  
  
AN: Okay, that's all. Umm…here's a haiku about my favorite transvestite rock musical.  
  
Crowd cries, tension builds  
  
Let there be lips, and there were  
  
and they were quite good 


	9. Dude, It's like I'm sleeping on Patricia...

AN: Um...Sorry about the title, my mom got me a pillow shaped like lips, and I got to thinking...  
  
Without a clock, how could I know how long it had been? Only the tap-tap-tapping of the guards steps past my cell and the growing of my own belly to accommodate the life within reminded me of the passing time. From what I remember from carrying Daan, I must be around six months gone. Six months. Half a year of the most excruciating agony ever known to anyone who has loved. I need to know something, I need to be able to hear my brother's name coming from the lips of another person, I need to hear someone else whisper it, other than me. Even news of his death would be more comforting now than not knowing. Death brings finality. Death is simply another place, easily accessed, a place I can (and will) go at any time I feel the need (what Riff doesn't and will never know of is that kitchen knife, from what seems like ages ago, still in my possession, hidden in the mattress among my multitude of letters).  
  
I hear, as I have heard over and over again for the past day, and a hundred days before that, footsteps. This time though, there's a difference in the weight, in the rhythm of the steps. I had learned to recognize each of the guards by the pattern in which they walked, and this one was...new. In a primal instinct, I scurried to the farthest, darkest corner of the cell, prepared to bite and scream like a beast-woman (I'm sorry, I've always wanted to use the term "like a beast-woman" in one of my stories) if they even tried to drag me off as they did Riff. I heard a key in the padlock and to door swung open, revealing a grotesquely fat man, with two, red, pudgy fists balled up together in front of his lardy stomach.  
  
A few cautious steps and the ugly man had entered the room, a few more and he was upon me (not LITERALLY, you pervs!), his meaty hands resting on my head.  
  
"She'll do, close the door please."  
  
Once again the door clanked shut, and he spoke again, this time in a low, throaty and primitive growl.  
  
"I'm gonna fuck you now, bitch, and if you even so much as close your legs before I leave this room, I'll find a way to strip your brother of his honors, and send him back to war without letting you see him. Didn't know he was there, did you? I knew, but wouldn't let them throw him back down...you've been kept relatively "fresh" for the last five months, and I wanted things to stay that way...for the moment, that is."  
  
The fact that I was going to be raped--again, only occurred to me after a prolonged felling of exultation. Honors? What could my brother had done to receive honors? Not dwelling on that puzzle, I pictured him just floors above me, reclining on one of the plush pillows to be found in the guest apartments, thinking--I'm sure, of me.  
  
Bringing my mind back to the events at hand, my heart was constricted in fear not at the though of violation, but from thinking what Riff would do, dear, dear Riff, when he found out, and-god forbid-if he suspected me? 


End file.
